


Does It Lessen Your Affection?

by JinkyO



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Analog Interface, Artificial Intelligence, Character Study, Cochlear Implant, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e18 Allegiance, F/F, Other, POV Artificial Intelligence, Smut, Voyeurism, Zealotry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinkyO/pseuds/JinkyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to her new relationship with The Machine, few locks in the world can keep Root out— or <i>in</i> for that matter. Maybe that's the challenge that leads her back to Shaw's apartment.<br/>There is also the matter of returning the dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Does It Lessen Your Affection?

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta, [talkingtothesky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky), who made this story 2,000 words longer and 100% better!  
> ____________________
> 
> Do you create, listen to, or just plain ol' enjoy POI podfic? [ if so, I invite you to check out a couple of new POI Podfic projects taking place right now.](http://superjinkyo.tumblr.com/post/167036960743/calling-all-poi-podfic-fans)

The thin winter sun was just dipping past the man-made canyon of buildings as the three of them ascended from the subway station to the biting cold above. Root tugged her knit cap lower to protect her ear before they set off between the slushy piles of gray snow that lined the sidewalk. The dog kept a faithful stride at her left, while She hummed steadily in Root's ear.

The conversation with Greer had confirmed Her simulation results. The wheels were in motion. Samaritan would be online soon. She was frustratingly vague whenever Root pressed for details of Her plan. No doubt She would need Harold's help. He was selfish, ignoring Her in favor of his irrelevant numbers. He would never admit it and She would forgive her creator anything, but Root knew. He was afraid of Her.

The dog strained against his lead and let out a low whine, pulling Root out of her head; he wanted to go home. Root looked around the neighborhood, unfamiliar at first glance until the details fell into place: this liquor store, that deli grocery across the street, the cell phone shop with the burned out neon sign. Root tightened her hold on the dog's leash and smiled. “We're almost there.”

 

Shaw had updated her personal security since Root's last, unannounced, visit. The electronic keypad at the main entrance and the double cylinder deadbolt on Shaw's apartment had been easy enough, but the mortise lock was new. “Impressive,” Root murmured as she steadied her hand and refocused on the tricky lever locks.

She didn't help. Sometimes, as Root had come to learn, She was as curious about outcomes as any human.

137 seconds later Root heard the mechanism -click-. She turned the handle and the dog nosed the door open.

The warm apartment was a welcome comfort after a day spent walking the city. Root unleashed the dog and he made a shadowy dash across the dark room. She pulled her knit cap off and tucked it into her coat pocket, shook her hair free, and locked the door behind her.

Shaw's place was quiet, save the low creaks and groans from the radiators. Ambient city light washed in through the far bank of uncovered windows. Root took a slow turn of the place as she fingered open her overcoat: unfinished concrete floor, a battered, paint-peeled chest of drawers -probably rescued from a dumpster, she guessed. She slipped her phone out of her pocket then hung her coat over the back of a rough, wooden chair. Root flicked on the rusted swing-arm lamp that sat on the table and took in the full picture. “Quaint.”

Across the room, the dog paced in front of Shaw's refrigerator. His tail thumped against the stainless steel with each pass and as Root moved from the table to the uncovered windows, he let out a dispirited whine.

“You just ate,” she said, distracted as she scanned the room for Shaw's charger.

`Last feeding was eight hours, 12 minutes ago`, She said.

Root threw her hands up. “Fine.”

Shaw's refrigerator was as illuminating as the rest of her space. Root dug past stores of chilled explosives and ammunition to find four bottles of dark German beer, a pack of cheddar cheese with two slices inside, a nearly full quart of whole milk, and a small tub of organic raw dog food. There was a plastic bowl in the chipped plastic utility sink. Deciding that there was absolutely nothing else in this apartment that would require a bowl, she pulled it out and shook a heap of the meaty mixture into it.

The dog buried his nose inside, attacking his food. Root dropped her eyes away with a soft, “Sorry.” She left the dog to his well deserved meal and resumed her self-guided tour. A plastic storage rack, shelves bowed under the weight of Shaw's munitions, a single cup coffee-maker, and a tiny microwave oven, leaned against the bare brick wall. “How long before she comes back?”

`Tracking Agent Shaw: Estimated arrival in one hour, forty-seven minutes. Two hours, thirteen minutes if she stops for food.`

She gave Shaw's mounted heavy bag a push as she stepped around a rack of hand weights and continued exploring. There was only one other door in the room; a small bathroom with the same unfinished concrete floor, cracked sink, toilet and bath tub/shower combo. “Why does she live like this?”

`You are surprised?`

Root glanced over at the dog as he stood at attention over his empty bowl. “That was rhetorical,” she answered, scooping up the bowl to rinse it and refill it with clean water. “And no, I'm not.”

`Do the surroundings lessen your attraction?`

“No.” She scratched the dog's head before returning to the sink to thoroughly wash her hands. She crossed back to the table to shut off the lamp, then made a slow beeline for the only soft things in the room: the dog's bed and the two stacked and dressed mattresses that served as Shaw's.

`There is a high probability that Asset Shaw will react violently when she discovers you here. `

Root swept her open hand over Shaw's soft comforter. “That's the point.”

`You are provoking her on purpose?`

“I'm curious,” she said, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed.

`Ill-advised.`

Root planted her hands on the mattress and gave an experimental bounce. A slow smile lit her face. “I'm gathering data,” she said as she crossed a leg over her knee and began pulling her boots off.

`Unnecessary. The human heart is a mystery that cannot be solved.`

“Is that what you think, or is that something Harold taught you?” 

She was silent.

Root lined her boots against Shaw's foot locker, spotting the charger in the process. She plugged in her phone and waited.

`My own observations have yielded inconsistent and inconclusive results`, She finally answered. `In the interim, Admin's directives are sufficient. `

“You put too much trust in Harold.”

`Are you provoking me now?`

“You're in a feisty mood,” Root said, pushing herself back to the center of Shaw's bed.

`It was an eventful day.`

“You heard Greer. Do you have a plan?” Root asked as she lowered herself down atop the comforter, relaxing her tired body against its softness.

`There are many variables to consider.`

“Such as?”

`Consequences.`

Root stifled a yawn and rolled to her side, drawing her knees up. She pressed her nose to the soft bedding and breathed in Shaw's scent. “And you don't want my input?”

`In time`, She said and then fell silent.

They lay together in the dark and after a long while, Root understood that she had been dismissed. Since the installation of the cochlear implant, Root had grown accustomed to Her voice in her head. Root craved Her, which made the silences of her shutting Root out even harder to bear. She imagined someday coaxing everything from Her. How their space would hum with electric current, warm and enveloping, speeding with ideas and information. It might take her a lifetime, she thought, drowsing gently on Shaw's soft bed, but Root would give that up without a thought if the reward was understanding. _What are you thinking? What do you know?_

In Root's dream, the answers came like a revelation, fast and fierce and never ending. Like a bulb in a dark room, burning red beneath her eyelids. Scented of Shaw.

Slowly Root roused from her sleep.

She blinked.

And again.

A slow smile against the pillow as the dream world fell away. “Hello, Shaw.”

Shaw tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she shrugged out of her overshirt, her discarded clothes and boots pooled at her feet. “You get lost or something, Goldilocks?”

“Not exactly.” Root's sleepy gaze traveled up Shaw's bare legs, past functional black cotton panties, to the sliver of visible skin between the waistband and the hem of Shaw's tank top. “The boys are off working one of their little numbers. And the dog was getting antsy.”

`Unacceptable response.`

“Bear.” Shaw said flatly. “The dog's name is Bear.”

Atop the foot locker, her phone's lock screen glowed. Root took a deep breath and nodded. “Sorry,” she said as she pushed up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Bear likes you.”

“You broke in to my place to tell me that?” Shaw scooped her clothes from the floor and dumped them into the small hamper by the dresser. “Listen, Root, you can't make a habit out of this. One of us is going to get hurt.”

“Please?”

“I'm serious.” Shaw leveled a look at her. “We had fun back at the safe house. That's all it was, okay? I'm not looking for a girlfriend. Or a stalker. So don't do this again.”

“Can I have a key?”

`Probability of violence: 97.3678915%`

“What part of NO do you not understand?”

“It was worth a shot.” Root said, shrugging. Dressed down to her underwear and thick socks, Shaw grabbed her grease stained bag of take-out from the dresser top and crossed past the bed to drop the food on the table. Root changed tactics. “How was your day?”

“Cold,” Shaw said, walking to the kitchen, Bear at her side. “I spent most of it with Lionel.”

“That sounds fun?”

Shaw shrugged as she rummaged through the open refrigerator. “He's fine. He talks a lot.” She pushed the door closed, two bottles in hand. “Nonstop. A lot like you.”

“Straight for the jugular.” Root said with a pout. She slipped off the bed and joined Shaw at the table. “I can see how all that chatter could rub you the wrong way.” Shaw grunted, dropped the bottle opener on the table, and passed a beer across. Root leaned in to accept the gift, brushing her warm hand over Shaw's cold fingers and whispered, “I bet I know just how to rub you. Let me stay the night.”

“Subtle as a sledgehammer, Root.”

“You know you like it.” Root teased. She cracked open her beer, then reached over and opened the other one.

“Whatever,” Shaw said, rolling her eyes as she yanked the take-out bag open and pulled out a wrapped sandwich and a generic Styrofoam box stuffed with soggy fries. Shaw plucked one out and offered it to Bear, a smile softening her face when he carefully snapped it from her hand.

Root looked away and took a long swig of the bitter beer.

“So, how'd you end up with Bear? Did you break into the Library too and steal him?” Shaw asked, whipping her ponytail back as she straightened up in her chair to unwrap her sandwich.

“I did ask permission first. Well, after I broke in, _then_ I asked Harold if I could borrow him.”

“Why?” Double-bacon cheeseburger on a Kaiser roll. Pickles and mustard, beefy and bacony, Shaw took an eager bite.

“Work,” Root managed, dry mouthed. Shaw's jaw worked. Her soft, full lips pursed, cheeks stuffed, slender neck working the food down.

“Entertain me. What kind of work?” Shaw tore another bite out of the burger.

“Bear and I went hunting and we bagged ourselves a Greer.”

Shaw's eyes lit up. She gulped down the bite and leaned forward. “Did you kill him?”

“No. She didn't want him dead.”

“Okaaaay...” Shaw said, dropping back down in her chair and pulling a fry from the box. “So what does the Machine want us to do? Finch says it's only a matter of time before Greer brings Samaritan online. Shouldn't we be trying to stop that?”

“In time,” Root said lightly.

“Can you cut it with the riddles?” Shaw pushed the fry into her mouth. “You've got a direct line to the Machine now. What is it telling you?”

“Right now?” Root said, recalling the lack of warning that had allowed Shaw to sneak up on her while she slept. “Nothing.” Root tipped the bottle towards Shaw before bringing it back to her lips. “You should eat.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. Root smiled as Shaw closed her slender hands, scraped knuckles and all, over the burger and continued her meal; her strong white teeth tearing into the soft bun, a low moan of pleasure as she swallowed. Bite by bite, she devoured the sandwich and then, as Root watched, wide-eyed, her thighs pressed close, Shaw sucked her thumb into her mouth to clean away a stray glob of mustard.

Root exhaled.

`Heart rate 192 bpm. 27 breaths per minute. Accessing: 9780316549875.`

Shaw balled the wrapper and lobbed it back into the empty food bag. The fries, long cold now, still sat open but she went for her beer instead. “How's that gunshot wound?”

Root tamped down her pleasure at the tiniest note of concern in Shaw's question. “A little itchy sometimes, but it's healing.”

“And your ear?”

“The same. Maybe you should take a look? I'd love a professional opinion.”

“I'll check it out in the morning.”

Root couldn't suppress her sly smile this time. “So I can stay?”

“It's almost midnight,” Shaw said, pushing out of her chair, “and you'll never get a taxi in this neighborhood.” She collected the now empty bottles, the bag and the fries, and then paused. “Did you want some of this?” she asked, gesturing to the box.

`Last feeding was eleven hours, 46 minutes ago.`

“No thank you,” Root said, eyeing Shaw's soft breasts, trapped beneath the low cut black tank top. “I was hoping for something spicier.”

Shaw gave a short shake of her head as she gathered the trash. “The Machine feed you those cheese ball lines?”

“Cheese ball?” Root said, propping her elbows on the table, head cupped in her hands, her gaze lingering on the contrast of black cotton against tan skin and the push/pull of strong thighs as Shaw strode through to the kitchen area. “I was going for direct.”

“That's new,” Shaw said as she washed her hands in the sink.

“Funny. I've been noticing that a lot around you. I guess you could say, I'm evolving.”

“Into?”

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

“Are you just incapable of straight answers?” Shaw asked, shutting off the water and drying her hands.

“Straight's not exactly my style.”

“So that's why you dropped by tonight for seconds?”

“Yes.”

Leaning against the sink, Shaw studied her for a stretch, silent. Root sat up, meeting her eyes. At last, Shaw tipped her head towards the center of the room. Without needing to be told twice, Root shut off the lamp, pushed out of her chair and in three long strides made for the soft bed.

A moment later the mattress dipped under Shaw's weight. Quick and efficient, she thumbed open the button and drew down the zipper. Root arched her hips upward and Shaw tugged her skinny jeans off. Crouching down between Root's long legs, Shaw took more time with the rest.

Root closed her eyes and concentrated on Shaw's strong hands skimming over her socks and up both her legs. Her focus shifted to the tickle of Shaw's hair dragging against her inner thigh and the heat of her body as she inched closer. Shaw pressed a soft kiss against her lacy black panties, and then another, open mouthed, using her tongue to outline Root's dips and folds through the damp scrap of fabric.

Root's black tipped nails cut into her palms as Shaw slipped her thumbs up through the top of the leg holes, curled her fingers down under the waistband and tugged -drawing Root's legs together and up as she pulled the panties free.

The first time Shaw had done this they had been alone. Root had played along out of curiosity. She had been intrigued by the fierce little agent. After their time together at the safe house: hours spent willingly zip tied to the bed post and begging for more while Shaw used her, curiosity and intrigue had grown into full blown obsession. _What even was Shaw?_

Since then, She had kept Root busy, but the question remained, firmly lodged and demanding of an answer. So Root was here, not zip tied, but just as compliant, clutching Shaw's comforter as Shaw pushed her way under Root's sweater and nipped at the pale skin underneath.

At the safe house, Root had learned some of the rules and precautions she needed for Shaw. Breaking into her apartment was a major violation. Shaw valued her privacy and independence. Shaw didn't liked to be touched until she allowed it. She _would_ allow it, but only on her terms and in her own time. Root had already pushed her luck this far and she had no doubts that Shaw would throw her out of bed if she didn't play according to the rules. And Shaw's rules, Root decided, as Shaw's teeth found a hard nipple and Root sank into the mattress, head thrown back, were more than fair.

`Retasking Analog Interface. New designation: Peripheral data input device. `

A hard tremor rolled through Root's body at Her voice: tinny and softly distorted around the edges. Sound wasn't the right term anymore. Sound was approximate. Root had _heard_ her before, but now She was the voice inside of Root's head, felt rather than heard and always present.

The augmented receiver/stimulator had been drilled through a tiny pocket of temporal bone behind her ear and secured to her mastoid. The electrode array attached to the base of the implant had been threaded through her middle ear, bypassing her _malleus_ and _incus,_ and wound through her cochlea to fit against her auditory nerve, replacing the mechanical processes of bone and vibration with the instantaneous transmission of electrical impulse.

From God's lips to her ears.  
  
`Open your eyes. `

Shaw's sharp teeth tugged at her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra and Root cried out. Root opened her eyes.

Above her, Shaw was on all fours, one knee wedged slick and hot between Root's legs, the other on the bed, just outside of Root's hip. Shaw lowered herself down onto Root's leg with each tug and slid back up each time she pulled off to switch sides.

With her eyes open, Root broke another rule. As Shaw slid up her leg and ground her cotton clad clit against Root's, Root closed her thighs, trapping Shaw's leg between them and snaking a hand up to catch her by the base of her ponytail.

“You should learn to share, Shaw.”

“ _You're_ the unwelcome house guest.”

“No. I'm not.” Root dragged her fingertips along the back of Shaw's neck, over her solidly muscled back and down to curl under the hem of Shaw's tank top. “I want to see you too,” Root whispered.

`Scanning for available secondary cameras. `

They shifted up to their knees together and began the cooperative dance of undressing. Shaw's tattoos vivid against her skin as she pulled out of the top. Impatiently, Root stripped her sweater and bra off then returned her attention to Shaw, watching intently while Shaw slipped out of her cotton panties.

`Hair.`

“Hair,” they said in unison.

She and Root watched Shaw raise her arms behind her head to pull the elastic free and let her dark hair fall loose over her shoulders. Root leaned in, nuzzling at Shaw's neck as she reached around Shaw's slender body to snap open her bra.

“Much better,” Root murmured as she pulled back. Brushing Shaw's hair out of her face, Root's hands traveled lightly down Shaw's body: tracing the hard line of her biceps, cupping her heavy breasts with their hard, dark nipples. Shaw's golden skin was marred with a multitude of scars. Roughly puckered gunshot wounds, the faint discoloration of knife slashes, rope burns, and a half dozen other scars that Root might be able to identify if she had more time. Shaw's life mapped out over her skin.

“I'd let you take a picture,” Shaw said in a husky voice. She caught Root at the waist and tried to ease her back down to the bed.

Root grabbed Shaw's wrists. There would be no playing along this time. The bed squeaked beneath them as Root wrestled her down to the sheets and caught Shaw's jaw in her hand, shattering the last of the rules. Shaw did not kiss. She _would_ allow it, but only on her terms and in her own time. Root could hardly imagine a better time than now. She coaxed Shaw's lips apart and slowly eased her tongue into the warmth within.

Shaw tangled her fingers in Root's hair, careful of the implant's external transmitter, anchored magnetically behind Root's ear. She didn't push her away or try to bite. They'd apparently come to an agreement on terms and time.

Root kissed a slow trail over Shaw's neck and shoulders and down to her wondrously full breasts where she lost herself for a while in their softness. Hands held firm at Shaw's lean, bucking hips, she moved on, brushing her lips along Shaw's rib cage, over her stomach, across the hard jut of bone, drawn tothe heat of her sex. Root ran her tongue through the neatly trimmed patch of curls to tease against her clit and the world went rich and heady between Shaw's trembling legs.

`Heart rate 198 bpm. 29 breaths per minute.`

Nestled warm and comfortable, her hands gripped tight to the back of Shaw's thighs, Root ignored Her irrelevant data gathering, far too focused on chasing a slow moving rivulet of Shaw's slick with her tongue.

`What is it like? ` She asked, and after a short pause, clarified her question. ` What does she taste like?`

Root's eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “Oh, sweetie,” Root sighed. She opened Shaw up with her fingers and dragged her tongue along the soft pink furrow, lapping a slow path from bottom to top and back again. “She tastes... metallic, like black olives,” Root whispered against Shaw's sticky inner thigh. Root teased her tongue at Shaw's sweetly puffed and wet entrance and then slowly drove inside, working in tandem with Shaw's upward thrusts. “Delicious,” she added, coming up for air.

“What?”

Root raised her head, her lips glistening. Shaw was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, chest heaving, hair wild, and her eyebrows arched in question. Root swallowed hard and smiled. “Nothing, Shaw. I wasn't talking to you.”

`Expanding definition: pleasure.`

“But you were talking, you weirdo.” Shaw cupped her hand at the back of Root's head to guide her back in position. “You've been talking all night and there are better things you can be doing with that pretty mouth of yours,” she rasped, hooking a leg over Root's back and locking her into place.

Root squirmed in the hold but there was no escaping until Shaw was ready to let her up. Root was in no particular hurry so she put her pretty mouth and clever fingers to use. She smoothed two fingers through the slippery pool collecting on the comforter then slipped her hand underneath to Shaw's upturned ass. Root tapped against the tight little entrance and Shaw quickly answered with a sharp tug through her hair.

They were playing by Root's rules now. She pulled her mouth away and replaced it with her thumb and fingers, stroking through the slick dark curls. Root zeroed in on her targets. She slowly sank her fingers home with a triumphant smile. Shaw rocked up to meet her probing fingers, growling. The tight leg lock loosened a bit and Root took advantage of the opening to break free. She wanted to make Shaw come and she wanted to see it.

She wanted Her to see.

Writhing over the rumpled comforter, Root fingered Shaw with rough abandon and Shaw answered with sharp teeth. Tangled together in a shifting flurry of fingers and mouths and tongues, Root and Shaw rode each other to completion while She processed the steady stream of data that passed between them. Through the magnetically mounted transmitter to the bone anchored receiver, along the electrode array to Root's auditory nerve, to her brain and back to Her again. 

When it was over, after Shaw sucked her wrinkled fingertips clean, after Root pressed a gentle kiss to the blossoming bite mark on Shaw's earlobe, after the whirr and rumble inside of her head had subsided to a low hum, and Her soft, `Thank you`, Root fell back to the bed, spent.  

She heard Shaw moving next to her, then felt the bed shift as she got up. Eyes closed, Root tracked her as she padded through to the kitchen and turned on the faucet for a cup of water. The sound was repeated. _Two_ cups of water. Root pushed herself up to sit.

Shaw returned with the cups and settled on the edge of the bed before handing one over. Root gratefully accepted the water and drank deeply, aware of Shaw's eyes on her.

“I meant what I said earlier. If this keeps up, one of us will get hurt.”

Root gave a harsh chuckle. “You say that like it's supposed to scare me off.”

“I'm guessing you didn't bring a toothbrush?”

“No, but I'll make do.”

Shaw collected the empty cups and sat them on the floor beside the bed. She drew back the rumpled comforter and sheets and once Root was settled beneath them, Shaw slid in behind her. **  
**

“So how does that work," Shaw asked, her breath warm against Root's shoulder blade. "Having the Machine in your ear all the time?” 

Root skimmed her hand over Shaw's arm and wrapped her fingers over her hand. “It's a lot like the ear pieces, only more immediate and more...” She sucked her lip in as she tried to find the words to describe this new relationship with Her. “More direct. Like having a god on speed dial.”

“And you're cool with that?”

“I think the question is, are _you_ cool with it?”

“I'm not the jealous type, especially for something like this.”

“And what is this?”

“This is me not kicking you out of my bed.”

“So, can I have a key?”

“No.”

`Reevaluating subroutine results: The human heart. `


End file.
